


We Played Blind Man's Bluff with the Ninth Brigade

by afellowofinfinitejest



Series: Jerome Smut [1]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Jerome Gets Shot, POV Second Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, idk how to tag pls send help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-26 04:17:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16674355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afellowofinfinitejest/pseuds/afellowofinfinitejest
Summary: Jerome is too reckless. Reader tries to teach him a lesson. Based on prompt from pretty-bad-au-ideas on tumblr: "You keep getting shot at and you need to learn to be less reckless about yourself because I care about you, okay? So I’m cutting off sex every time you do some stupid shit you could’ve avoided."





	We Played Blind Man's Bluff with the Ninth Brigade

Biting deftly at your lips, Jerome pulls at your dress, hands finding their way between your thighs. You gasp, opening your mouth for him to lick at your tongue. Fingers, pressing without humility against the fabric of your panties until you’re keening. Too soon, he takes his hands from you, wrapping his arms under your legs and dragging you up, your heat pressing against the defined bulge in his pants. You reach in through the neckline of his shirt, wanting to feel his skin under the fabric. You push further, but the peculiar softness of his shoulder ends when your hand drifts over viscous wetness. Jerome yelps when your fingers twitch in confusion, but still makes an attempt to claim your lips. “Don’t worry about it.”

You turn your head from him, unbuttoning his shirt further. “Jerome, you’re bleeding.”

“And you’re spoiling the fun. C’mon, doll, you’re killing me here.”

Ignoring him, you press your legs to his sides until he lets you down, sighing through his nose. Peering at the wound in the softest part of his shoulder, you notice the black thread along the edges. “Jerome.”

“It’s a flesh wound,” he lies, ignoring the fact that you obviously know the truth. “It doesn’t even hurt.” You raise your eyebrows, pressing your thumb just under the open skin. Jerome makes a noise like an irritated cat.

“What happened?”

Jerome’s face twists at your tone. It’s the voice you use when you’re set on something, when there is no way for him change your mind. “May or may not have been shot at yesterday.”

“Jerome!”

“I’m here, ain’t I? The Doc patched me up just fine.”

“Until his shoddy stitching came out.” 

A pause. Then, “yes.”

“And what would you have done if it had been more serious? Would you have kept that from me, too?”

“I don’t need a lecture from you right now, gorgeous.” He reaches out suddenly, circling your waist with his arms to pull you against his chest. Jerome moves his thumb over your bottom lip, almost gently. “Need these pretty lips around me.”

You glance at him, taking his thumb in to your mouth before you turn defiant, biting his finger on the nail. Jerome’s eyebrows pull together, confused by refusal. “Suck your own cock.”

“Well, I’m not as experienced as you are.” He laughs loudly, overtaken by his own wit, ceasing only when you pull away from him completely. “Oh, come on, doll. What, you’re not gonna let me fuck you because I lied?”

“Of course not, Jerome,” you smile, turning your head to the side innocently. “I’m not going to let you fuck me because you’re too reckless, and I want that to stop.”

“Well, what can I do?” 

“You can promise to be more careful.”

“(Y/N).” If his tone is an attempt at sounding threatening, it fails. He only strengthens your resolve. 

“It’s down to you, Jerome.”

Before you met Jerome, you might have seen yourself as a mellow kind of person. That’s what he did, what he does. He impacts what you are, down to your core. Some days, this was useful. Other days, your similarities piqued in explosive arguments, or, with your ultimatum, a long, slow burn of resentment brought about by mutual stubbornness. 

The first day, Jerome complains endlessly. The second, he simply ignores you. The third day, he makes threats. “Don’t know why I should keep you around if you’re going to be this way.” You raise your eyebrows at him, daring him to repeat himself. He doesn’t. 

By the sixth day, your determination starts to wane. Jerome had taken to walking through the apartment half naked, the new stitches on his shoulder starting to do some good. It becomes harder and harder to dismiss him the longer he does it. The hard lines of his arms when he stretches, the long expanse of his torso. You want to touch, to taste. You miss feeling him, maybe as much as he misses you. Then, you have to imagine the consequences if you give in. Jerome, continuing to be reckless, ending with a bullet through his heart.

Still, the need for some kind of release tears at you until you find yourself with your top off and your own hand between your thighs. You whimper softly, pressing your fingers under the waistband. 

Jerome had been shuffling around the living room until the quiet noise drew his attention. Your skirt, flipped up across your waist, legs wide, the curve of your hand in your panties, moving steadily as you rub your clit. “Fuck-” You cry out suddenly, your hips jumping frantically against your hand.

When you open your eyes, Jerome’s on his knees in front of you, staring intently at the space between your thighs. Carefully, he smooths his hands up, over your legs, sending a shiver through you. He stops when he reaches your panties, playing with the material for a few seconds before pulling them down, dragging them off your ankles. You’re still playing with your clit, more languid now, wanting instead to focus on Jerome. He leans forward, but you grab his hair with your free hand roughly. “You’re not allowed.”

“It’s not fucking, gorgeous. Doesn’t count.”

You don’t need any more convincing. As soon as you stop pulling on his locks, Jerome darts forward, pressing his tongue just under your clit and pulling it up, brushing lightly over the bare nerves. Jerome growls, “needed a taste of you so bad.” You respond with a mewl, moving your fingers through his hair, silently begging for more. “Fuckin’ cruel, keeping me from your pretty cunt for so long.” His tongue dips in to your entrance, pulls up and finally drifts to your clit. Jerome nips at the nerves, letting you cry out before he draws back, satisfied that you’re turned on enough to let him have you and not wanting to wait. He pulls off his pants and underwear together, immediately drawing his hand to the base of his cock. He pulls at himself, staring at your open legs.

He’s hard for you, aching and red at the tip. The sight of it alone makes you whine, wanting take him in to your mouth. You remember your resolve briefly in the middle of this thought, hating yourself for being as stubborn as you are. Instead of getting on your knees, you pull him to sit down. You spread your legs over him, pressing your wet heat to the base of his cock. Jerome lets out a breath, trying to press inside of you but you stop him. You steady yourself with hands on his shoulders, starting to drift your hips languidly over the length of his cock.

“So wet for you, Jerome,” you say, pulling your head back when he makes an attempt at claiming your lips. “Hurts so good when you fill me, when you stretch me. Need your cock inside me.”

“Then let me fuck you, gorgeous, I’ll fill your cunt just how you want it.”

“You can’t, Jerome,” you whine, as though the rule came from somebody else. “You have to promise first.”

“You’re fucking with me.” He throws his head back to the couch. You wiggle your body side ways, loving the friction along your sex almost as much as you love the feeling of being filled. The head of his cock catches on your clit when you roll your hips, causing you to gasp each time.

“You make me feel so fucking good. Love your cock - fuck - Jerome.” 

“Fuck, fine,” he grasps on to you, digging his fingers in to your skin. You think about the inevitable bruises tomorrow, and all it does is send a new wave of heat through you. “I promise. I’ll be careful.”

You bite your lip, smiling. “Say it again.”

“I promise. I’ll be so fucking careful all the time. I will. I promise. Now let me fuck you.” You nod your head in consent, watching him as he reaches down, pressing the tip to your entrance. He pulls you on to his cock, then keeps pushing your pelvis towards him instead of pulling back. There’s a dull pain because of the stretch, but it’s part of him pressing himself deep, deep, deeper until you’re gasping to his lips, feeling utterly full. 

He doesn’t move, but presses his fingers against the top of your sex, rubbing viciously and watching the twist of your face, the redness of your open lips when you gasp. “You’re gonna cum for me, aren’t you? Fucking desperate for it, aren’t you?”

You nod, moving your hips from his jaw down to his shoulders, grasping the hard muscle there. The feeling of having him inside you, kneading the parts of you that make you shake while he stimulates your sensitive clit is almost too much, too good. It’s his firm groan that sets off the tight warm snap between your legs, spreading across you until your toes are curling. 

When you’re recovering, bucking your hips thoughtlessly and breathing hard, Jerome turns you, pressing your back down against the couch and bending your legs at the knees, holding them to your chest. He thrusts at a leisurely pace, taken in by the tight wetness clasping on to him that he’s missed with a passion. He’s drawn from his pleasurable daze by a familiar whimper. Your first orgasm has only fueled your want. “Fuck me, Jerome, please.”

He chuckles, digging his hands in to your waist and pressing harshly against you with his hips. “You want to pretend you aren’t wet for me all the fucking time, but you’re just a desperate slut, aren’t you?”

“Yes,”

He moves faster, smacking against the sensitive skin at the top of your legs violently. “You’re always ready for it, aren’t you? Any time I want, I could just bend you over and you’d be ready to take me deep in this tight little cunt.” You’re powerless to disagree, nodding fervently if it will make him keep going. “You want to cum again?”

“Yes, Jerome, want to cum for you. Just for you.” Thighs twitching, his thumb against your throbbing clit, breath coming in short gasps until he speaks.

“Go on, cum on my cock, let go. Want to see you.”

It starts with a whimper, then a staggered moan. Jerome presses his lips to your open mouth, taking the sound. You’re only aware of the heat, the pleasure, the quick movements of his cock as he reaches his finish brought about by yours. Jerome presses deep for a final time, only moving his hips in little circles while his cock twitches, spurting, thick and hot, inside you.

Jerome sighs in relief, letting your legs drop next to his thighs. He allows his body to fall against yours and you like the pressure, being covered by him. His nose nuzzles your neck, making you giggle lightly, only to gasp when he pulls free of you. “So fucking good, doll.”

“Mmm,” you agree, brushing through his hair. It’s then that Jerome reaches under you, fiddling with the clasp of your bra. He pulls the garment from your chest before you can ask him what he’s doing, immediately latching his lips on to one of your nipples. 

“Made me wait too long,” he tells you, his bottom lip moving against the sensitive peak. “Want to take you naked. Got to make up for all the time we’ve lost. I’ll have you on your knees, first.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I wrote this over two years ago but I've been wanting to post my Jerome writing on here for a while so I thought I'd try and get round to it.  
> This can also be read, along with my other Jerome stuff, on my tumblr, afellowofinfinitejest.


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